An Heir to Gryffindor
by Harry's Witch
Summary: Harry ends up in the middle of Voldemort's and his female assistant's plans. She becomes pregnant with Harry's child in hopes of possessing the child to be Voldemort's potent heir. Unless Harry can stop him, that is. Seventh Year fic.


Chapter One

_I'll kill him, _he thought irately as the cuffs on his wrists and ankles became tighter. _I swear to God I'll kill him. _

But that had been three hours ago since Voldemort had captured him, and the feelings of confidence and anger were dwindling down to hopelessness and weakness. Just exactly what the hell were they planning to do with him, he thought. Now really, what was the point of chaining him to the wall? Was Voldemort really that thick to think that after all that fighting Harry was just going to wander out of the dungeon after he had finally cornered the Dark Lord? Did Voldemort really think that Harry was going to run away again?

But there he stayed, chained to the wall with each of his wrists stuck immobile six inches away from his sides, his feet on the cold ground but stationary in these stupid handcuffs? 

And then she came back. Half-veela, half-woman, and all-evil, she stood before him on countless occasions trying every trick in the book to get him under her control. She had tried everything, everything but one simple act....

He remembered everything. How angry he felt at seeing her looking at him, checking up on him to be sure that he hadn't loosened the handcuffs and escaped. How weird he thought it was when she had gotten closer to him, closer than she ever had been before, the icing-pink gloss on her lips shining under the light of the moon that shown through the barred window a few feet over Harry's head. He remembered falling under the spell she had cast upon him, remembered losing all common sense, remembered the feeling that the spell had caused him to forget that he was a captive in Voldemort's dungeon and that this woman was his accomplice who would eventually aid her master in killing him as he struggled against his chains in the cold chamber. All he had felt was the bliss when she touched him and the sudden relaxation when she fell against him, kissing his neck and seducing him until he became so lost in the delirious lust that he had actually begged her to continue. And when it was over she had lifted the spell and he realized what she had just done to him and became confused and weirded out all over again until her sudden attention to him had accidentally interfered with Voldemort's final plan to kill him once Trissa was done with him, and he had found some way to make the dungeon disappear from his nightmare and he appeared out of thin air in his bed, shaken and breathing hard in confusion. 

Yes, it had been a four-dimensional fight, but it had indeed happened, and Snape knew about it, hence McGonagall and Dumbledore knowing as well. 

"Voldemort wanted an heir. He knew he could never have you so he went for the next best thing—your powers. A child will be born in six months, a child inheriting your powers and enough of Voldemort's possession to be his one true heir."

"So she's really pregnant," Harry muttered in disbelief as his Potions Master continued to explain the mystery of the weirdness of that strange night three months ago.

"It was her only aim, of course, to subject herself vulnerable to a rebirth of your powers. When the child is old enough, Voldemort will have possessed it so much with his evil powers that the child will grow more evil by the hour."

Dumbledore and McGonagall stared down at him with saddening eyes. 

"What? It's not my fault! I...She...had me under a spell so that I would forget where I was and what I was there for...to destroy the Dark Lord."

"You had strength enough to resist this, Potter," McGonagall said thinly. 

"No I didn't!" Harry argued. "Once in a million years does a guy actually get raped by a girl while under a trance that she cast, and in that once in a million years, it's the guy's fault anyway!"

"We're not blaming you, Harry," Dumbledore cut in. "And, just for the record, according to the effect of the trance she put you under, you did give consent."

As he said this, Harry remembered his quiet whimpers of _'please'_ and the soft moans that had escaped his throat with such intense, unexpected but highly welcomed pleasure. "I didn't mean to," he said quietly to the floor, the guilt finally finding him as the reality of the situation came crashing over his heart and causing him to feel more sorry for this mistake than any he'd ever made before. "I couldn't help it...I mean I was chained to a wall...It's not like I could have pushed her away..."

"Stop worrying. It happened under not-so-normal circumstances as it is."

"But if I had only—"

"I understand, Harry, after working with teenagers of Hogwarts since I myself was around that age. It is only natural lust you felt for her. It would be wrong for anyone to leave two coed teenagers in a room alone together and expect no sexual tension," Dumbledore pointed out. 

"But still, I could have...I'm sorry." Dumbledore put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I didn't mean to." _Heh, _Harry thought as he buried his face in his hands, never wanting to look Dumbledore or McGonagall in the eyes again. _And I thought it was only some kind of weird kink she had. Of course it would be more complicated than that. God knows I can't ever have anything just be normal for once, or go my way. _"Professor," Harry said quietly, again speaking to the floor. "What if...what if we found Trissa, you know, without finding Voldemort at the same time? If we found her, we could put a spell on _her,_ and then we could..."

"No. Absolutely not."

"But—"

"Harry, do you really want this innocent child to die?"

"But technically—"

"No."

For Dumbledore knew that Harry had been trying to suggest an abortion. Never in his life had Harry thought abortions were okay, and he knew it. 

"But I'm not the one who acted irresponsibly. I didn't have anything to do with this. So how can you ask me to take responsibility—"

"We'll figure out something. In the mean time, all we have to worry about is finding a way to stop Voldemort from possessing the baby before it's born." 

* * *

"So, I bet you're glad you broke up with Lindsay before this happened, otherwise she'd think you'd just cheated on her," Ron was saying over butterbeer (with just a touch of Firewhisky) in the common room. "How come you never told us what happened in the dungeon?"

Harry shrugged. "I just...I didn't understand it myself, and I didn't expect you to either. 

"Still, that's a hell of a way to lose your virginity, chained to a wall in Voldemort's dungeon with a girl half-possessed with the Imperius Curse. I told you not to wait, you git."

Harry shrugged again. "Lindsay said she wanted to wait. I didn't have very many options then."

"Well I think Harry did the right thing. It's only typical of teenagers to go around sleeping with every breathing object they can get their hands on. I think you're in the middle of a very mature decision," Hermione said. "However, I think you could have fought her off a little better than you did."

Hermione had no idea what it felt like, Harry thought as he stared into the fire, hoping with all his heart to see Sirius's head appear. Hermione didn't know what it felt like to ignore the lust that came with adolescence, to try to be someone different and not-so-typical, to try to stand up for the right choice, which also meant trying to control uncontrollable hormones. Near every day Harry would find himself wishing he was in bed with her, or her or her, or even her...Hell, it didn't matter. All he desired was sex, not necessarily the relationship behind it, and that was one of the reasons why he and Lindsay broke up over the summer. It was only December, five days from Christmas, and he had already succeeded in knocking up someone just three weeks into the school year. Needless to say, he wasn't very proud of himself this year. Yes, he had found Voldemort and almost succeeded in bringing him down once again, but he had failed and as a result was punished by Voldemort's twisted plans for his fate. 

_Even if we do find Trissa again and manage to convert her away from Voldemort,_ he thought, _what would become of the baby? I don't want to be a dad. I'm seventeen. I didn't ask for this. It's not my fault. She'll either have to give the baby up for adoption or raise it on her own. I have every right to refuse custody. _

_But still...it is my child, after all. _He rubbed his thumb over the piercing in his left index finger, the finger Madam Pomfrey had pricked in order to compare his blood DNA to Trissa's stomach...The DNA matched. He was the father. The baby was his. _Do I really wanna be one of those guys who finally settles down and has a nice family going, and then this kid shows up on my doorstep looking for his real parents? But my only other option is to raise it...I can't do that either...Well, by the time it's born, I'll be either out of school as a graduate or finishing up my last final exams...The timing couldn't be more convenient...I couldn't be an Auror right away, of course, but I could always go back to that once the baby's old enough to be left with a babysitter...Hermione...._

_What the hell am I talking about? I'm seventeen years old! I *can't* be a father! I'm not old enough, I have no experience with babies, and I have no stable future. If I really wanna wait until the property Sirius left for me is finished, which will only take about two years.... _

Sirius had made sure that a new house would be built, a large living quarters so that Harry could have his own place and still have room for visiting friends. Until the house was finished Ron had made him promise that he would stay with them at the Burrow for as long as possible, until he turned nineteen at the least. 

_That bitch, _Harry thought. _All this trouble I'm in and it's all thanks to her. Screw abortions; If I ever find her again I'll do the honors myself, killing her first and leaving her body to rot in Voldemort's dungeon for him to find...and then I'll kill him too...._

Harry fell asleep that night thinking that way, the silver bracelet he wore on his left hand shining dully under the light of the moon. It was Sirius's bracelet, Sirius's bracelet that he gave to Harry and Sirius's bracelet that Harry would always wear and never remove from his wrist. He felt for some time now that he was alone in this mess, mixed up with the wrong people, but somehow, as good dreams finally found him for the first time in seven years, he knew that Sirius was sitting at the foot of his bed, watching his godson sleep, protecting him with the strongest power man could possess.

...to be continued... 


End file.
